


He Remembers

by Lotus_Dumplings



Category: Hetalia: Axis Powers
Genre: ALS, Bittersweet, F/M, Future Character Death, I actually can't write Austria my hands do it for me help, Implied/Referenced Character Death, Jk I already knew it was gonna be bad when I started the beginning, Lou Gehrig's Disease, M/M, Music, hmmmmmmm ending??? Not good???, not edited I'll do it later, rip the German Bros they both ded
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-12-23
Updated: 2019-12-23
Packaged: 2021-02-26 01:28:08
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,657
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21915235
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Lotus_Dumplings/pseuds/Lotus_Dumplings
Summary: Ludwig asked to go on a date. Roderich said yes. It's simple, really. If only it had stayed simple.---Roderich loves Ludwig, despite the limited time he has.
Relationships: Austria/Germany (Hetalia), Mentioned Past Relationships - Relationship
Kudos: 12





	He Remembers

**Author's Note:**

> For Jin.

Roderich wasn't looking for love. He never is, but that doesn't stop it from knocking at the door. He doesn't look for it, but it finds him. He ought to stop answering. He should stop letting these things take hold of him, because it never stays for long. He remembers his first real love. The man of sunshine, with so much optimism despite his pain and so much love despite the hate. Roderich could've had him. He was so close, but he was too slow. He was slow to open up, slow to show affection, slow to find out how he really felt. And when he finally did, it was too late. He remembers his first spouse. The woman of strength, spitting in the face of the world that struck her down, gave her a son, and left them for dead. She trusted him with her child, but he was never ready for that. She loved him and fought for him, but she deserved so much better. And now, his third love, his last love, sits in his wheelchair, unsure of how much time is left. He remembers him, too.

It was three years after the divorce. His Feliciano—now ripening into a young man—still visited, despite no obligation, no reason. Roderich didn't do much for him, but he was his first father figure, and he had shown him music at his young age, and so the boy came. Erzsébet didn't mind. She should've, but she didn't. He never really loved her like she needed, and she knew that, but she never protested. She didn't fight for the house, didn't ask much, only took the money Roderich gave her because of legal contract, and left to make her mark on the world. Meanwhile, Roderich continued his aimless job, but he also put his degrees to use. He decided to direct an orchestra, letting his knowledge of violin and piano better a group. And then he met him.

He was a musician of much skill, but his passion was cello. He never needed a demonstration, for he understood music without any prompting. He was focused and steady, but no matter the song, his instrument was sad. 

Really, he didn't stand out to much at first. Not until he pointed out, "You shouldn't French string a Contrabass." Not until Roderich learned he wrote his own music. Not until their eyes met once and Roderich had two second to process out cute his flushing cheeks were before he turned away. And Roderich knew this feeling, for he had felt it before and he was always too slow but he couldn't be slow this time. 

Ludwig asked to go on a date. Roderich said yes. It's simple, really. If only it had stayed simple. 

Ludwig went through the motions slowly. It was refreshing, a breath of fresh air. He always preferred to keep professional situations professional and romantic ones romantic. He was never one for mixing the notions because he needed an order, like music needs a structure. But he was impossible not to fall in love with. He had a soft laugh, like he was afraid to laugh too loud. He had calloused hand from plucking strings and knitting and working. He would fidget because he always had to do something, always had to focus on anything. He would knit of his eyebrows, and purse his lips, and narrow his eyes. And he was gorgeous, even if Roderich didn't say it aloud. But he should've said earlier.

Ludwig was reluctant to move in, but eventually he did. "The last person I lived with was my brother..." he said. Roderich didn't ask for details. 

It was good for awhile. Not perfect, but nothing ever is. They developed a schedule, grew more comfortable, loved each other softly and casually and it was great. They could open up from there. Roderich could tell Ludwig about his ex-wife, and Ludwig could tell Roderich about his brother. His late brother, who housed him when his father wouldn't and raised him harshly and coldly but only because he wanted the best for him. Ludwig thought it was weak how much it still affected him. 

Roderich never thought him stupid enough to conjure up such thoughts. "Have you no sense, you fool? Of course it would affect you still. It was confusing. But you got better, did you not? You became a great person, one of the best I've ever met! So you are not weak—such a claim is preposterous!" 

No, Ludwig is not weak. Even if one cannot see at first glance, he's as strong as he is loving because those things go hand in hand. He had already endured so much, and so much more was to come forth. To call him weak is an insult to all he's been through, to all he is. No, he's strong and resounding, like the cello he broke himself to play. Even though he can no longer string it, it remains a constant reminder of his invulnerability. 

Ludwig shook his head the first time Roderich told him that. "Thank you," he said, expecting it to be over. For now, it was.

Years. It had been years, and some pretty good years, too. But then things took a turn for the worse. The first sign was in his left hand. His fingering was growing weak, and his muscles hurt if he did it too long. He still tried to play, but as time went on, he would have to stop more and more often. It started to become cold and withered. But he thought nothing of it. No, it was Roderich that forced him to see a doctor. And that's when it became dire. They said it could be amyotrophic lateral sclerosis—ASL. His nerves could be beginning to die, he could lose the ability to control his muscles. 

And Ludwig cried. For the first time since they'd met, Ludwig cried. And Roderich would've cried, too, if he didn't need to be strong. No, that's just how it was sometimes. He could be a shoulder to cry on. He would have to be. "Will my memories—" Ludwig choked out, "w-will they...?" He didn't want to lose them. He didn't want them to begin to puddle together and mesh into one, like his brother's had. He—no younger than 18—had watched his brother lose everything, lose his life, until he slowly lost himself. He didn't want to see it again, and he didn't want to experience it.

No, thankfully, he wouldn't lose them. But the fear of what he could lose still rested on his shoulders. It was confirmed some months later, by a neurologist. Roderich's world seemed to darken and everything grew hazed, like it was beneath a layer or six of glass. But it had to be worse for Ludwig. He pressed his lips, fighting back everything to take in the facts. His muscles would deteriorate. He wouldn't be able to walk, talk, eat, or breath without help. He wouldn't be able to work or play or bake or knit or even write music. Three more years. That's how long he could live. But at what cost?

The drive home was silent. It hung over them like a blanket, smothering and suffocating. And yet, Roderich couldn't think of an appropriate way to break it. Words don't always work. Words can fail you. That's what music is for. Music is an art, and art iscommunication when all else fails. Words can't convey the feelings from news like that. They never will be able to. All he could do was hum Chopin and take his hand.

"I don't have to stay," Ludwig would say later. "It would be hard, harder than anything to care for me. I'll be a burden and a bother—"

"You're confusing your feelings for facts." 

"But—"

"Good heavens, Ludwig. I'm not going to leave you when you need me most. To think you would even suggest that." 

He was right that it would be hard. But Roderich was never one to give up, at least until it was far too late. He had fallen in love with this man, so he was going to stay with him. So what if he was hurt? They'd both hurt. It was par for the course, now. 

He'd stay by that. Even after four months, when it started to hurt for Ludwig to move. Even after six months, when it seemed like he'd recover. Even after a year, when he began to get worse. Even after two, when he could barely stumble out of bed or change his shirt or bring himself to cry anymore. And now that they are counting the weeks, and he can't eat without a tube and when he can barely breath without a machine and he can still move his feet and some of his fingers but not really. And now that the lines between fighting and loving are even thinner, because they really do go hand in hand. And now that lovers has become synonymous with patient and caregiver.

No, Ludwig no longer laughs. And he no longer knits and plucks strings. And perhaps he cannot fidget, but his mind does all the moving for him. And he still knits his brows, even if pursing his lip is out of reach. He's switched out writing music for writing in general, as much as he can. He's still gorgeous, though the words still barely make it out. And he's likely stronger than ever, even if it's hard to see at first glance. And God does Roderich still love him. And it's okay. Not perfect, but nothing ever is.

And all that's left is for things to come to a close. Roderich plays, slowly, so Ludwig, his last love, can still play along. And he takes his hand, because that's all he can do. He remembers. 

But perhaps he should leave it behind.

**Author's Note:**

> ALS- amyotrophic lateral sclerosis. A nervous system disease in which nerves in the brain begin to die off, making it hard to function and use muscles. Also known as Lou Gehrig disease, after New York Yankees baseball player Lou Gehrig. It is 100% fatal, though treatments to make life easier and longer exist. 
> 
> There are references to Gilbert and early onset Alzheimer's.
> 
> Please correct any and all mistakes you find, thank you!


End file.
